


It Is Inside Your Skin

by tjstar



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Band, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Friendship/Love, Kissing, M/M, Tattoos, a tiny bit of jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 20:32:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4276971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjstar/pseuds/tjstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete's trying to convince Patrick to get a tattoo. He even has a sketch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Is Inside Your Skin

Well, the thing is: tattoos are cool, and Patrick Stump likes them with every fiber of his soul. This is a love at the distance — Patrick has some inner respect to people with tattoos, but he doesn’t want to cover himself with any patterns. It’s good when a man isn’t terrified to stick a needle into various parts of his body, Patrick thinks. For example, Pete Wentz — he has some tattoos, and it looks just awesome.

Pete’s very proud of the tattoo on his stomach (hybrid of a bat and a heart), and he even posted a photo on his Facebook page, and YES IT’S SO FUCKING SEXY. Patrick doesn’t deny. Cartoon characters are great too; Tim Burton is a genius, and Pete idolizes ‘The Nightmare Before Christmas’, and now Skeleton Jack’s immortalized on his arm. That’s why Pete always wears short sleeved t-shirts.

But it doesn’t mean that Patrick wants to have a tattoo of Marshmallow Man from ‘Ghostbusters’ on his own arm.

Pete talks non-stop about his friend Andy, who works in the tattoo-parlor, and Patrick’s almost jealous, and he makes a mental note to learn more about this guy.

Also Patrick hopes that Pete isn’t going to make him a tattoo while he sleeps.

“Your skin is perfect, why don’t you want it?” Pete asks. “I could get myself the same tattoo.”

Patrick thinks a lot about this offer; in his mental classification, some phrases like ‘together forever’ are stupid, just because Patrick isn’t sure that he and Pete are _together._ Well, they’re kissing sometimes, but they’re not a couple. Honestly, Patrick is dreaming of it.

It’s inevitable, and Pete goes ahead with some spontaneous action. Without warning, he climbs into Patrick’s room through the window, and he even has a sketch: a schematic drawing of an erupting volcano.

Patrick already doesn’t like this idea.

“It’s not my style, Pete, all of this! I’m not a punk, and…” he sighs, unable to defend himself from Pete’s glance. “I’m wearing glasses,” he adds helplessly.

Yes, he realizes it’s the worst argument ever.

“Glasses? And so what?” Pete asks with a big grin. “Imagine, you can get a tattoo on the back of your hand, between the thumb and index finger!”

It seems like sometimes Pete forgets that Patrick’s body is _Patrick’s_ body.

“No. It’s stupid and girlish,” Patrick replies, staring at the ‘volcano’; the lava looks like a little crown, but really, he’s happy that Pete chose his arm and not his ass.

“You don’t understand. It will be cool, man!” Pete says enthusiastically. “Andy is a professional,” he rubs his tattooed shoulder.

“Andy will stick a needle in my hand, and it’s creepy,” Patrick shudders.

He’s fifteen, and he’s afraid of needles, syringes and injections, and he always squeezes his eyes shut when he gets vaccinated. Pete’s eighteen, and he’s not afraid of _anything._

“I’ll get the same tattoo then,” Pete decides. “And it will be our folie a deux.”

His voice is mesmerizing, Patrick nods at first, but then he suddenly returns to reality and shakes his head.

“I’m not going to get a tattoo,” Patrick responds. “But I’ll go with you. I want to meet Andy.”

Pete just rolls his eyes.

 

***

Theoretically, tattoo-parlor ‘Decaydance’ is a good place: it’s clean, it smells like a disinfectant, and looks a bit like a dental office. The owner /Andy/ has a good taste at music; at the moment, there’s Metallica yells from speakers. Andy is a shirtless young man who has tattoos on his arms, chest, back and neck, and he’s wearing glasses. _Glasses_. His shorts hang low on his hips, and he’s hot. And Pete hugs him; shit, they’re really good friends.

“Hey Wentz, finally! Nice to meet your boyfriend!” Andy pushes Pete away and smiles at confused Patrick.

“Actually he’s not my boyfriend, but I’m working on it,” Pete laughs and pokes Patrick’s ribs. “Trick, say something.”

 _He’s almost Pete’s boyfriend,_ and he’s numb. His attention is focused on the black leather armchair with soft armrests.

“Hi,” Patrick says shyly, noticing _needles_ of a different thicknesses lying on the table. He should immediately distract himself. Patrick looks around and sees some photos on the walls; tattooed men and women, and also all the types of piercings. Okay, Andy is a professional, Patrick admits it — let him go home.

“I’m trying to convince him to get a tattoo,” Pete explains.

 _‘No, you make me do something I don’t want to do,’_ Patrick thinks to himself, but keeps silence.

“He’s cute without tattoos,” someone else joins the conversation. New customer crosses the room — it’s a curly-haired guy, his vest doesn’t cover his shoulders, he has intricate tattoos on his right arm, and he apparently wants more. One strand of his bangs dyed pink, he looks totally like punk, and of course, Pete knows him.

“Yo Troh,” Pete shakes guy’s hand.

“Don’t ‘yo’ me,” he pats Pete’s back.

It’s weird, but Pete knows almost everyone in Chicago. Patrick remembers that he has no friends, and starts feeling sad, but suddenly ‘Troh’ gives him a high-five, and Patrick chuckles softly.

“Well, I need to work,” Andy shrugs, and pretty punk nods and sits down onto the chair, placing his right hand on the armrest.

“You’re next, Trick,” Pete whispers, and Patrick is ready to flip him off. He wants to see how to create a work of art, but he doesn’t want to take a part.

Andy puts on a pair of white medical gloves, and now he looks like a crazy scientist; if you can imagine the scientist aka tattoo-artist, of course.

“Let’s do this again, Hurley,” the guy in the armchair encourages. “This increases the value of my arm!”

Andy smirks and inserts a thick needle into the tattoo-machine, getting ready to finish the drawing on the customer’s right hand. Pete whispers again; something about this dude’s name is Joe Trohman, and he’s a nice guy, and why the hell Patrick isn’t happy. Yes, Patrick isn’t happy, because this terrible thing in Andy’s hands starts to buzz, and OH MY GOD IS THAT A DROPS OF BLOOD OR JUST A RED INK?!

Everyone’s calm; Pete’s watching at the process with a huge interest, and Joe’s face doesn’t express any emotions. Andy’s concentrated as a professor who gives a lecture.

“What do you think about it?” Pete asks, turning to Patrick.

“It’s not for me,” Patrick sighs.

He doesn’t like this place, it’s obvious. Really, Patrick doesn’t have to be here only because of the fact that Pete wants it. He has his own opinion, and he heads to the exit.

Patrick can feel surprised glances’ behind his back, but he doesn’t care, because he suddenly remembers about his guitar lesson.

Pete always messes up his plans.

“Shit!” Patrick exhales and almost breaks out the door of the parlor; he should get home, grab his guitar and run to the bus stop. _‘Sorry, Mr. Hoppus, I’m late because I was watching how a friend of my friend’s getting a tattoo,’_ great excuse.

He tries not to think of how his marathon looks for Pete, Andy and Joe. He’s not a coward — he’s just about to be late.

Patrick isn’t a good runner, and Pete catches him up at the end of the street.

“STUMP WAIT,” he shouts, and guess what? Patrick stops, trying not to breathe in Darth Vader’s style.

“Did they laugh at you because of me?” Patrick asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What?! I told them you have a guitar practice, and that’s why you ran away,” Pete responds, staring at the ground. “I know your schedule, actually.”

Anyway, it’s awful. _Pete protects him from possible mockeries,_ and Patrick is pleased by it, but he doesn’t want to have troubles with Mr. Hoppus. If Patrick will go to the bus stop immediately, he’ll get a chance to arrive to the music school in time.

Pete reads Patrick’s thoughts and maneuvers him in the right direction.

“Your friends are really nice, but… We’re different,” Patrick’s voice sounds sadly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Pete smiles. Really, he communicates with a music wunderkind who plays Bowie songs by ear. He doesn’t need tattoos to look cooler! Besides, that’s still illegal despite the friendship with Andy.

Patrick nods and pushes up his glasses, seeing — it’s a miracle — the right bus. He doesn’t mind when Pete climbs up after him, arguing that he wants to hear Patrick’s playing and singing.

Pete’s sure it will be great.

 

***

They arrive in time, and Patrick’s guitar lesson goes without any problems. It’s not the first time when Pete comes to music school; Mr. Hoppus is a friendly teacher, and he doesn’t kick Pete out. Patrick prepares for the music contest, and he has a lot of rehearsals. He obviously feels uncomfortable without his own guitar, but he can set up any instrument, so he starts to play on the school guitar.

Pete sits at the desk, rubbing his tattooed shoulder habitually; Patrick sings, and Pete’s slightly ashamed of his thoughts about Patrick’s pink lips.

After the practice, Pete just kisses him on the street.

 

***

At the evening, Patrick sits on his bed, thinking about tattoos again. He takes a purple marker and draws a small volcano on his left hand, between the thumb and index finger. All as on Pete’s sketch: lava-crown, clumsy picture, but hey — it’s funny.

Patrick smiles to himself; Pete was right, and it looks really cool. Maybe, next time Patrick will use a permanent marker.

**Author's Note:**

> aka story about Patrick's lack of tattoos  
> \----  
> sorry about strange things, let me know if anything's wrong


End file.
